Smoke Catching Fire
by HetaWriter - HetaReader
Summary: Emil was a lonely boy who recently started his second last year of high school. After another round of bullying, he eventually meets and befriends a man who he meets at the creek. A man wearing a white mask as pale as the moon itself and with a cigarette in hand; its smoke billowing up to the dark sky. AU, TurkIce friendship, pairing: IceSey.
1. Ice With a Burning Flame Inside

_Hey guys, HetaWriter/HetaReader here; this time bringing you a new fic._

_I noticed that several of you were wondering about Emil in Truffles and a Hammer, and I promised before that I would write something that involved him. So, here it is!_

_Now, be warned that this fic will become much more serious in tone than Truffles and a Hammer as it touches upon subjects that are definitely not light hearted. Some of these particular themes include bullying and abandonment. If I somehow offend anyone along the way, I deeply apologize._

_**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Hetalia.  
_

_Now, shall we begin?_

* * *

"Class," the Mr. Chao announced at the front, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. Once the noise died down, the Thai man beamed as he patted the back of the boy standing with him.

Everyone found themselves staring at the boy with the roll-call teacher; he had a rather strange, yet intriguing appearance. He had rather tousled silver-white hair and violet eyes. He was wearing the school's normal uniform, which consisted of a blue blazer, a white long-sleeved shirt underneath a beige sweater vest as well as dark blue plaid pants.

However, instead of a black tie, he was wearing what appeared to be a white ribbon.

"Thank you for finally paying attention, ana. This is Emil Thomassen," Mr. Chao continued, the gentle smile still gracing his features. "He recently moved here and is now going to join our school from now on – become a part of our family. I'm sure all of you will welcome him with open arms and make friends with him, ana. Emil, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

Emil may have looked impassive on the outside, much like his older brother Lukas, but truth be told; inside, he was extremely nervous.

He was born in Reykjavik and, despite moving away to Oslo when he was eight; felt that Iceland was the home closest to his heart.

His family was a strange one, to say the least. Lukas was his older brother who took pride in the Norwegian part of their family since he was born in Oslo. Their parents died at a rather young age, and as a result both ended up splitting apart. This was so because their aunt could only afford to look after one of them at the time. Because Emil was younger, Lukas had pushed him to stay with his aunt, while he himself went to live with their uncle in Copenhagen.

Emil missed his brother dearly, but he had made good friends in Oslo during his years of schooling, their aunt was very kind and filled that gap where a motherly presence was needed.

However, she was rather weak and unsurprisingly, she passed away.

Emil had been upset upon seeing the woman simply lying in her bed with no signs of movement. He had sobbed for days on end as Lukas, who had flown in from Copenhagen, comforted him with a warm hug and gentle strokes to the head.

The years had passed soon after with Lukas now home and looking after him instead having graduated from high school in Copenhagen. For a while, Emil felt things go back to normal as his brother stayed by him.

Imagine his surprise when Lukas had brought home a friend he met in Copenhagen.

The said friend was a Danish man by the name of Matthias. Matthias was the total opposite to his brother, being loud, outgoing and very upbeat. Emil was irritated by some of the Dane's antics as well as the foul stench of alcohol that burned his nostrils when Matthias would drink a bottle now and then. However, he couldn't help but feel more…uplifted by the Dane's presence.

Honestly, if the Dane wasn't home, Emil would feel that the house was rather empty without him. As if there was something missing.

Eventually, Emil found himself moving again, this time with Lukas and Matthias to Stockholm.

Lukas apparently had a good friend there – a Swedish man by the name of Berwald.

Upon the first meeting, Emil was frightened of the towering Swede with his piercing, storm-blue eyes, but soon relaxed upon seeing that the bespectacled barbarian was in fact, a gentle giant.

Berwald lived with his caretaker and a boy he had adopted in London and took home to Stockholm. The caretaker was a kind Finnish man by the name of Tino and though he was warm and welcoming, had a rather scary side to himself as revealed when he had rescued a puppy from a group of children who were throwing rocks at it.

To say that Emil was shocked by the Finn's sudden change in character was an understatement.

Berwald's adopted child, Peter, reminded Emil of Matthias, albeit much younger, with bushier eyebrows and with a British accent. Emil and Peter got along reasonably well since they were both the youngest in the household, surrounded by adults. However, the child was actually quite sickly and he would cough and shiver as cruel gales of freezing winds assaulted the house at night.

Emil was sixteen at the time, and he was having a nice walk with Peter and Hanatamago (the puppy that Tino had saved from the gang of children), just chilling in the cool night, when all of a sudden, noticing that the boy was no longer by his side on their walk, whipped his head around.

Peter was lying face down on the snowy ground.

Unsurprisingly, the Icelandic boy had sprinted to the boy's side and shook him; at first gently, then in a progressively rougher manner upon seeing the boy's lack of response. During the time, his mind rushed in a frenzy as he began to panic, screaming the boy's name over and over again, trying desperately to wake him up.

He was glad that Matthias had come home.

The doctor had concluded that the weather in Stockholm was what caused Peter to fall ill. Emil was relieved at hearing that Peter was alright; his heart had been rapidly beating in his chest as he wrung his hands together.

Berwald had listened closely to the doctor's words and lifted his head up upon hearing the recommended treatment.

"I'm afraid medicine cannot work in this case. No, the only treatment is to move to a much warmer climate; the weather and climate here is dangerous to the child's health."

And that was how Emil ended up here.

Honestly, Emil didn't want to leave Stockholm; he had made plenty of friends back there and also formed an identity for himself – he was the track star of the school's team, even compared to the foehn winds that reigned upon mountains and billowed amongst the cold snow.

He didn't want to leave everything behind.

It took a while, but after a talk with Lukas, Emil moved away with the rest of his odd family to start all over again.

The high school that Emil was enrolled to wasn't far at all from his house, and, much to his surprise, was actually right next to Peter's primary school. So it was, on the first day, Tino had walked with Emil to drop Peter off at school and had waved goodbye to the Icelandic boy as he took his first steps into a new territory, wishing him good luck.

Emil swallowed the lump in his throat as the myriad of new faces gazed right at him. The Icelandic boy felt extremely self-conscious, but kept as cool as possible. He straightened his posture slightly as his violet eyes furrowed into a scowl and settled onto the ground.

"Now Emil, how about it? Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself, ana? Don't be shy," Mr. Chao's encouraging voice then echoed in his mind.

Emil cleared his throat as he mumbled, "My name is Emil Thomassen, I'm sixteen years old, I used to live in Stockholm…"

"Where the hell's that?" one boy from the back called rudely.

Emil gave looked oddly at the boy who shouted earlier, while Mr. Chao shot the boy a sharp glance, "You do not have to be so rude; Stockholm is the capital city of Sweden."

The Icelandic boy nodded, thankful that the Thai teacher had come to his rescue. "Originally, I was born in Iceland, though…"

"We can't understand what the hell you're saying, man!" another boy shouted in an obnoxious voice. "You speak so weirdly!"

And with that, the class erupted into fits of giggles and laughter at the remark. Emil's face flush and he shuffled one foot on the ground as Mr. Chao attempted to settle the class down. The Icelandic boy fixed his gaze down at the ground, not wanting to face the number of faces laughing at his expense.

"Well…_I _think his accent's perfectly alright!" called out a female voice. Emil's violet eyes widened upon hearing that one comment and shot his head up, curious to see the person who had said that, until the bell's ear-shattering ring throbbed his eardrums.

"Class, you are dismissed. Now, I need one of you to show Emil around the school," seeing a hand shoot up at the back, Mr. Chao smiled. "Ah, Michelin; how good of you to volunteer, ana. Now, take care of him, okay?"

"Of course, Mr. Chao," responded the same female voice that had yelled earlier, this time taking a bright and cheery tone.

Emil glanced up and finally saw that the owner of the voice was a dark skinned girl with even darker coloured hair that was tied into two pigtails with red ribbons, and warm, light brown eyes. She was wearing the typical girl's uniform, which included a white sweater, and dress shirt as well as a black tie and a red plaid skirt. She was also wearing white, knee high socks and black shoes.

"It's nice to meet you, Emil – I'm Michelin," the girl smiled as she shot her hand out.

Emil stared at the hand for a little while and accepted it after hesitating for a moment.

"Can I see your timetable?" asked Michelin. "What have you got right now?"

"Don't know," was Emil's mumbled response as he took his schedule out from his newly assigned homework diary and handed it over to her.

"Looks like you have Math right now," spoke up Michelin after inspecting the Icelandic boy's timetable. "Nice! We have first period together! Okay, let's go!" and with that, she grabbed hold of Emil's arm and began running on her way to class.

"H-hey!" protested Emil, flushing a furious shade of red as he was forcefully pulled along. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"We gotta hurry on over before the corridors get blocked," explained Michelin. "Trust me; the place gets _way _crowded in between classes. I learnt that the hard way!"

True to her word, students began wandering around the very corridors, making the space much more cramped. Emil's eyes widened as he saw that the space for a clear path was starting to narrow as he felt bodies gradually pressing onto him…

"Here we are! Room eight!" Michelin was able to pull Emil into the said room and sighed in relief. "Able to escape another crowd." She flashed a smile at Emil's direction, "Go on! Pick a seat, any seat."

Emil gave her a weird look; she was certainly a very odd girl, to say the least. He dumped his bag on a desk right in the middle and not long after, Michelin sat next to him, placing her bag under her desk. The Icelandic boy stared at her, "You want…to sit next to me?"

"Why not?" asked Michelin as she gave a shrug.

"Nothing…" muttered Emil as he began taking out his notebook and pencil-case. The pencil-case was adorned in the colours of his home flag; the home flag of Iceland – dominantly dark blue with a red cross that had an exterior white one. He took out a rather elegant looking black pen as well as some white-out.

Looking to his left, he saw that Michelin had taken out only a few pencils, and each of them had a blunt stub. He stared at her as she then took out a cheap looking sharpener and began sharpening the pencils, tongue slightly poking out from her mouth. The Icelandic boy couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the sight.

"Hey, Michelin!" called a familiar obnoxious voice. "How you doing, babe?"

Michelin groaned, "_Not _in the mood, Darien…"

"C'mon, baby – I know you want me as much as I want you."

Emil glanced up and saw the same boy from earlier who had remarked rudely about his accent. This boy was tall with his arms rippling with muscle and he appeared, in Emil's opinion, to be one of the alpha males of the school seeing as how he had high-fived a bunch of other students who were filing into the classroom and also had a group tagging along with him.

"What are you staring at, freak?" the boy, Darien, questioned roughly.

Emil gave a start, feeling rather embarrassed; he hadn't realized that he was staring in the first place. "O-oh…sorry," he mumbled. "I was staring at nothing…"

"Leave him alone, Darien," snapped Michelin. "It's his first day here; go pick on someone your own size."

"Why you even sitting with a freak like this?" asked Damien, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He then took some of Emil's bangs and flipped it right into the Icelandic boy's eyes, "Not only has he got grandma-coloured hair, but his eyes are girly coloured, too."

"I happen to like the colour purple," proclaimed Michelin, trying her hardest to defend the new boy without having to use any means of violence. The last time she got into a fight, she not only got hurt with a broken nose and some of her hair ripped out, but her cousin Gupta had scolded her to no end about her unruly behavior. "I think his eyes are beautiful."

Emil's whole frame grew rigid as he felt his cheeks go aflame; in all honesty, though he knew that Michelin was only trying to help him, she didn't make things any better. On the contrary, she was making things much worse.

"Beautiful? That only proves how girly this freak is!" laughed Darien as his friends followed suit, clapping his back. "C'mon, Michelin – sit with me and my mates; sit with a _real _man."

"Too bad you haven't dropped yet judging from the sound of your voice," grumbled Emil.

The movement in the classroom seemed to freeze and all signs of breathing were held upon the Icelandic boy's remark. Despite Emil mumbling the comment, everyone had by now strained their ears to listen to what the new boy had to say, and were quite shocked upon hearing his response.

Michelin was trying to hold in her laughter to no success while Darien was visibly fuming. He was about to retort when a sharp voice snapped, "What are you doing? Get to your seats now! This isn't a damn field!"

Darien snarled, harshly spitting in Emil's direction, "I'll get you _later_. Freak," he added as an after remark.

Emil ignored him, instead trying to calmly start his work, ignoring the glared that were shooting from a particular diagonal. Flipping his notebook open, he picked up his pen and began copying what the teacher was writing on the board.

* * *

_And here the first chapter draws to a close. Truffles and a Hammer is actually closing soon, too - it might end on ten chapters actually. This one might end on a shorter length, that's unknown yet because the body is still being developed. _

_As I mentioned in the summary, the pairing is IceSey while the main focus is TurkIce friendship. Honestly, i do not understand why fans hate Seychelles._ _Before I start going off on a sensitive subject and cause a great stir, I would just like to conclude that I actually have three more ideas coming to mind, but due to preparation for my little trip overseas, it probably won't come up until November..._

_Anyway, thoughts and opinions? Have a nice day! :DDD_


	2. Smoke's Smooth Start

_Hey guys! It's HetaWriter/HetaReader here, sorry about not updating for a while!_

_First off, I went overseas on a trip to parts of Asia (South Korea, Thailand, Hong Kong and Philippines) with my best friend. After that, I have to juggle things around including work, uni and some other stuff. But anyway, I don't give up easily, and I'll try to update ALL of my other fics (exception being HetaVoice) as much as I can!_

_Anyway, thanks goes to **Arisa-chan 97 **and **Danise Nowak **for the follows, and **Ms Maddie **and **Kai Vienna **for the faves! Big thanks goes to **Oz the Magician **for the follow AND the fave, and to **Lilypad the Fourth **for the follow AND the review, and to **Miwasaki Yuki rin **for the review._

_**Lilypad the Fourth:** Haha, actually Seychelles and Iceland aren't in my top character list, either, but I do like them. Turkey is, however in my top 10 coming 9th. I also like pairing him with Iceland, but I also like IceSey, so that might explain why I wrote this fic. I also just wanted to write stuff for the people who live in Arthur's and Antonio's town from A Piece of Me. The story rocks? Thanks a lot! You rock! :D  
_

_**Miwasaki Yuki rin:** Really? I'm sorry to hear that about you - nobody deserves to go through that. I myself have never been bullied in school. At least, I didn't think so, because nobody beat me up or used physical force against me, opting instead to use words. Unfortunately for them, their words were ineffectual against me because I gave no damn to what they thought. I do know people who have gone through that, and it's horrible. Bullying is the main issue in this fic, simply because yes, I do want to convey a message that it's horrible and even being a bystander is just as worse (which explains why Seychelles isn't standing back in the sidelines and defends Iceland). Thank you very much! And by the way, just out of interest, why did you change your pen name?  
_

_**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Hetalia.  
_

_This time, the story is placed into Sadik's perspective and what's happening with him. It'll be an alternate shift of perspective between him and Emil for each chapter unless they are together, which in that case will just plainly shift perspective._

_Again, I apologize for not updating any sooner, but I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"You…"

"Huh? Me?"

"Yes, you. Step _away _from my sister."

Sadik raised his head when he could hear a click reverberate the now silent classroom. He squinted his eyes from behind his mask to see that right now, Antonio was offering some candy in a little bag to a young girl with her blonde hair in two, little plaits and big green eyes that feigned innocence.

There was also a man standing overhead with what appeared to be a pistol in his hand. The man had short, blonde hair in a bob cut, and green eyes the same hue as the little girl.

The gun was pointed straight at Antonio's nose.

The Spaniard stared cross-eyed at the gun that was only a centimeter or two from his nose, causing him to wriggle it. However, the action seemed to anger the blonde man even more as he spoke again, his tone low and deadly, "What are you doing with _my _sister?"

"Huh? Nothing, I was just giving her some candy."

"Just giving her some candy, huh? That's how they all start off…"

"Huh? _Lo siento_, I mean! I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean there…?" Sadik could detect the hint of nervousness that was now lining Antonio's voice as he made a _tiny _shuffle backwards on his feet in his crouched position.

"Step away and I'll forgive you."

"But what did I even do?"

"You know what you did."

"Um…but no, I don't…"

"Damn liar."

"Huh? But I'm not lying!"

"Big _bruder_," the little girl began, but was caught off when Sadik decided to finally intervene, noticing that when Antonio stood up and began to progressively back away from the gun-wielding man.

"Oi, there a problem here?" questioned Sadik as he approached them.

"What do you want?" inquired the blonde man, his gun still pointed at Antonio.

At this point, Sadik knew he had to tread carefully or the man would shoot. However, the Turkish man had a feeling that somehow, the gun wasn't exactly…a gun.

Well, it appeared to be a gun and it certainly sounded like one when he cocked the trigger back (nothing at all like those fake plastic things he'd seen kids in the older grades buy in their attempts to look cool), but there was something about this gun that didn't exactly fit with him that it was real.

Maybe that was why Sadik pressed on, "Hey, don't be mad at my co-worker here; he was only giving her candy! What's wrong with trying some candy?"

The blonde man's eyes narrowed to slits, "This is none of your business."

Sadik blinked from behind his mask then sneered, "It is, if you're harassing one of my co-workers."

"I am not harassing him," said the blonde curtly. "I am asking him to leave."

"Asking him, huh? _Right_…with a gun?"

"If he will not move away, I _will _be eventually forced to use this, as much as I do not wish to."

"What's your name, sir?"

"Vash."

"Look, Vash, just lower your gun from my co-worker, and I'm sure everyone could go home. It's not like Antonio here was going to lead the kid to a white van, drive away, and…"

Before Antonio knew it, the two men suddenly got into a very ugly wrestling match right on the matted floor. The Spaniard's jaw dropped in horror as he saw that right now, somehow, Vash had Sadik in a half-Nelson, which should've been a hard feat to do, since the Turkish man was much larger than him.

Sadik snarled as he twisted around, trying to get himself loose out of the man's grip. He was very surprised that Vash had an iron grip like this. Eventually, he ducked down a bit more and was able to startle the blonde enough to finally roll over and have him in a chokehold, determined not to be taken down.

"Guys! Come on, please stop!" called Antonio, seeing that some of the kids, particularly the girls, looked frightened at the two men wrestling, while the boys were cheering and shouting at the top of their lungs while raising their tiny fists up. "There are children everywhere, and-!"

Unfortunately, neither Sadik nor Vash attention to the Spaniard and continued their brawl on the floor as they began rolling towards him.

A scream shattered the air next.

Antonio yelped and shrieked as he was being rolled around along with Sadik and Vash. Somehow, his leg was caught in the middle of their wrestling forms, and right now, the poor Spaniard could feel it stretch out and twist around, causing a sharp pain to shoot up his leg and strangle his bones.

Sadik wasn't sure how long he had fought with fisticuffs with Vash for, but he knew that everything stopped when both of them were struck on the back of the head by something flat and wooden, causing it to throb and ebb in pain. Looking around, the Turkish man saw what had caused that very source of pain.

A paddle.

"That is enough," a Vietnamese woman with long, dark hair tied into a ponytail said sternly. There was a class of sixth graders following her who looked curiously at the scene before them, some just as eager as the children who were cheering during the brawl.

Sadik and Vash both toppled over in a heap right on top of poor Antonio who gave a squeak once they both landed.

The Vietnamese woman's expression softened just by a fraction as she bent down to face the Spaniard, "Antonio, are you alright?"

Antonio groaned, "Please…just get me out of here…"

Sadik was able to lift himself off the ground and drag Vash to his feet. After Lien had heard of what had occurred to cause the Turkish man and the blonde to act in such a way, apologies were exchanged on both ends and finally, Vash was able to go home with the girl that Antonio had offered candy to.

"Eh, he's not that bad…" Sadik shrugged as he felt for his mask. He smiled; good, it was still perched on his face. "He's definitely a great fighter, though! I commend him on that one; it _was _kinda fun…"

"_Kinda fun_?!" shouted Antonio, clearly distraught. "My leg has been stretched out by you two! I don't think it'll ever be the same again!"

Sadik gave a hearty laugh as he smacked the Spaniard by the back, while the said Spaniard gave a childish puppy pout, "Come on, Toni! Nobody's feet or hands are ever the same size! It's a known fact!"

"But, that's different!"

"I only came here with my class because Antonio's class is the buddy class of mine," the Vietnamese woman sighed as she turned her back to the two men and headed for the door. "But now I see that I came in at the wrong time…they'll be so disappointed…"

"No, wait! _Señorita _Lien!" exclaimed Antonio as he immediately shot up from one of the children's chairs. "You don't have to go! Your kids can stay and play with mine! I'm positive they'll love that!"

Lien arched an eyebrow at the Spaniard's outburst, but nonetheless, with another heaved sigh, she opened the classroom's door to allow the older children to enter.

Sadik gave a small smile as he watched the children interact with one another and finally excused himself after obtaining the paints that he came to ask for in the first place, feeling slightly out of place.

As he walked back to his class, he casually walked onto the verandah, ignoring the fact that the children inside quickly shushed each other once they heard his loud footsteps echoing the terrace. He opened the door and saw that they were either trying or pretending to read their books so they wouldn't get scolded.

Sadik couldn't help but inwardly smirk; these kids were so sly and sneaky, it wasn't even funny. Out of all the fourth grade classes he got, he ended up with the one that had kids that were not only clever, but quick at learning and understanding…

"Back class!" he announced, raising the paints in triumph. "And I have the paints for this afternoon's work! Just pack your books away and get some paper and your brushes already!"

One student raised his arm, to which the Turkish man called upon. The little boy questioned, "Mr. Adnan, what was going on in Mr. Carriedo's class?"

Sadik arched an eyebrow from behind his mask, "Eh? What do you mean by that?"

The child pressed on, "It's just, we all heard this _really _loud scream and it came from there, and you said you were going there. Were you the one who screamed?"

Here, the Turkish man gave a bellowing laugh as he shook his head, "Me? _Scream_? No way! That wasn't me! That was Mr. Carriedo!"

"Mr. Carriedo?" his students were exchanging glances to one another, but soon, they began to shuffle closer, eager to listen. "Why did he scream?"

Sadik smiled gently here; if there was something he knew that his students loved, it was stories. For some odd reason, his class loved hearing him tell stories as they did their art work in the afternoon. The Turkish man would just walk around the room and observe his students work while he told a story; either a folk-tale, a past experience of his, or just something out the top of his head.

It mattered not to his students; there was something captivating and enchanting about Mr. Adnan's story-telling. Maybe it was because he wasn't too fully descriptive, but his words flowed smoothly and his voice, usually louder and more up in beat, became much calmer and pleasant to hear. He looked really calm, too – it was plain to see that he loved telling them stories.

By the time that school had finished, Sadik had waved goodbye to his class and began work on grading papers in the empty staff room. After some teachers filed in the once bare area, the Turkish man felt satisfied with the amount of work he had done, and decided to take a break.

Outside, he could see that the sky was already starting to get painted in various shades; light blue, gold, pale pink and vivid orange as the sun started to disappear. The Turkish man then took out a cigarette from a packet in the back pocket of his trousers, and struck it in his mouth. Next, he took out a red lighter with a white crescent moon and star on its surface, igniting the flame to life and bringing it close to the end of the butt.

"You do know that smoking is bad for you, right?"

Sadik rotated his head around to see Lien standing across from him, her arms crossed to her chest as she gave him a serious look. The Turkish man took a drag from the stick and exhaled, unleashing a puff of wispy, white smoke that rivaled the fading clouds overhead. "Yeah, I know," he murmured.

Lien arched an elegant eyebrow, "Then why continue it?"

"Have you ever tried smoking before? It's harder to quit than it looks," after another heave, the Turkish man took the cigarette out from his mouth, between two of his fingers and looked down at the now scowling Asian woman. "What? What's with that look?"

"You should stop, you know; it could kill you."

Sadik sighed, "You think I don't know that?" he coughed a little bit as some saliva got caught in his throat. "I'm quitting; it was _way _worse before."

"How worse are we talking?" questioned Lien quietly.

"I used to smoke a packet every day," the Turkish man responded as he gave another heave on his cigarette. "But now, it's only one every Friday."

Here, the Vietnamese woman arched her eyebrows, "Really, now? That's quite an impressive feat, actually…"

Sadik shrugged, "I started smoking when I was about…twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Don't exactly remember, but it was when I first came to this school…"

"You are turning thirty this year," noted Lien. "When did you start quitting?"

Again, the Turkish man shrugged at the Vietnamese woman's question, "Again, I'm not really sure. But it wasn't recent, either. About last year, I think. It was seriously hell before, I'm telling you." He sighed as he began tapping the cigarette, unleashing smoky grey ash onto the rocky path, "'was a completely fucked up mess before. But now…it's much better."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"_Hola_, _mi amigos_! What are we doing out here?"

Sadik and Lien turned around to see that Antonio was standing nearby with his hands on his hips and a big beam spread out onto his face. The Spaniard approached the pair, "So, what are we talking about?"

The Turkish man gave a grunt as he simply dropped his cigarette and crushed it under the heel of his boot. He didn't exactly want to respond to Antonio right now; though the Spaniard was smiling widely, there was something rather…_off _about his smile right now.

It looked as if he was ready to maybe slap someone at any moment.

"Just discussing Sadik's smoking habit," responded Lien tonelessly. "He is still quitting, at least."

Here, Antonio's smile faltered and now, he looked more concerned, "Ahh, yes. I remember, you used to smoke a lot, _señor _Sadik. I'm glad to see you're quitting, though – I think that's the first one I've seen you smoke in a week or so!"

Sadik gave a half-hearted shrug on his right shoulder as he ran a hand through his short, black hair. "I'm getting there; I'll eventually stop completely, which is a good thing," he sighed. "Gotta get back to work; the damn papers won't mark themselves after all."

"Such a shame," said Antonio. "I was gonna just go for a walk around. Maybe you'd like to join me instead, _señorita _Lien?"

"That, I'm afraid I cannot do," Lien answered back. "I have to go pick up Yong Soo from his sports carnival. I will simply mark my class' work at home. Good evening to the both of you."

And with that, the Vietnamese woman left, now taking the keys out from her jacket's pocket. Sadik gave a wave as did Antonio, who clearly looked rather disappointed at the fact that nobody seemed to want to join him on a walk.

Maybe it was because of that, Sadik now found himself on a walk with the Spaniard chatting up a storm while grinning just as brightly as the sun the whole way. The Turkish man knew that he should've been accustomed to Antonio's chatter, but it tended to grow irritating if he kept going _on _and _on _and _on_…

"Can I ask? _Señor _Sadik, why did you even start smoking in the first place?" Antonio's emerald eyes brimmed with curiosity.

Sadik looked down at the Spaniard and inquired, "Why do you even wanna know in the first place?"

Antonio shrugged, "I just do; I always wonder why people would want to smoke."

Sadik rubbed his stubble chin as he and Antonio continued on their short walk. Come to think of it, why _did _he start smoking? He was definitely sure that it wasn't because it was a fad or trend; otherwise he would've started smoking in high school. It definitely wasn't peer pressure, either because again, he would've done it during high school.

However, from that last notion, he was able to determine the reason.

"Stress relief?" Antonio echoed, surprised. "Really?"

Again, Sadik shrugged, "Things were getting really hectic at home; I felt like I was going on edge. So of course, I needed some way to channel the stress out. In the end, it came down to smoking."

"What was happening at home?"

Here, Sadik then stopped in his tracks; Antonio followed suit, curious to hear his answer. However, the Turkish man said in a tone that was suddenly as cold and piercing as a knife's blade, "That's none of your business."

The Spaniard blinked and shuddered at Sadik's sudden change of tone and atmosphere (he was always much warmer than he seemed), but this time, decided not to press him any further, and instead, chose to run after the Turkish man who began trudging along again, his footsteps echoing the once quiet playground.

Antonio didn't need any other part of his body hurt or stretched.

* * *

_If anyone HAS read A Piece of Me, then they'd recognize the scene with Vash and Sadik. I'm sorry if Sadik's character seemed OC, but I think this is how he'd be like if he wasn't around Greece - he seems fatherly/big-brotherly to me and a bit of an easy-going guy as well. He's also nosy, but at the same time, he doesn't like it when people get into his own business._

_Anyway, thoughts and opinions? I'd like to hear them. See you around! :DDD_


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